


Pound

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Ficlet, M/M, PWP, hate sex?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ardyn knows the best way to break Noctis down.





	Pound

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Ardyn/Noctis/Ravus” “i.e. a Noct sandwich” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=10632250#cmt10632250).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s already stuffed _so full_ that he thinks he might burst, but Ardyn doesn’t give him any time to breathe. Ardyn keeps one thick arm wrapped around his middle, the other reaching down between his legs, two thick fingers scissoring him wider open, even though Ardyn’s fat cock is more than enough. Noctis grits his teeth and sets his magic off every time it starts to hurt too much—he can drown it all out in _pleasure_ if he wants to.

“Are you ready, Your Highness?” Ardyn purrs over his shoulder. Ardyn’s uneven stubble scratches at his cheek, Ardyn’s layered coats a cloying heat along his back. Somehow, Ardyn’s kept all his elaborate clothing on, and Noctis has wound up _naked_. The crisp suit he wore to the banquet is a rumpled mess on the floor. The only saving grace is that Ravus is just as bare as him, perched on all fours at the end of Noctis’ bed. There’s room enough for all three of them. Back to the headboard with Noctis in his lap, Ardyn stabs a third finger into him and coos, “ _Well?_ ”

He probably isn’t ready. He probably won’t ever be—his body’s barely big enough to take what Ardyn has, let alone _Ravus_ too, but Noctis has always been too stubborn for his own good. He grunts a firm, “Yeah,” with complete conviction.

With a wave of Ardyn’s free hand, Ravus stalks forward, crawling to them like a coeurl, just waiting to pounce. He looks more angry than turned on, but that’s how he always looks. Noctis spreads his legs wider to accommodate, and Ravus’ eyes flicker down. At least _that_ puts a different kind of heat behind his eyes. He puts both hands on Noctis’ thighs as he slips into place, both the battle-scarred _human_ one and the sleek metallic prosthetic. Noctis isn’t surprised to see the mat of pale blond curls above his cock matches his white hair. He guides himself down behind Noctis’ balls, and Ardyn helpfully joins to hold Noctis’ cock out of the way. Noctis tries to rock into that touch, eager for the coarse feeling of Ardyn’s glove along his skin, but Ardyn chuckles and holds him down. Noctis scowls his annoyance, but neither of them is looking at his face. 

The first push is too much—it makes Noctis tense up, and Ravus swears, Ardyn purring contentedly—Noctis can’t tell if Ardyn’s getting off on the tight heat of Noctis’ body or Noctis’ sore discomfort. Ravus doesn’t give either of them much chance to adjust, just forces himself in, one staccato thrust at a time. Noctis _tries_ to relax, tries to open, but he’s already full beyond his limit. Ravus goes in anyway. Noctis takes it like he knows he can.

It takes too long for Ravus to sink in as far as he can—not _quite_ fully sheathed, but enough that Noctis is dizzy and Ravus looks just as hungry. It’s far, far too much, but it’s the sort of wicked feeling that Noctis _lives for_. Ardyn chuckles fondly, “Well done, Your Highness...” And Noctis tries not to listen. It always sounds like Ardyn’s mocking him, and he’s _never_ going to give Ardyn a title in return.

Ravus doesn’t say anything, just breathes deep and waits, his muscular thighs trembling in his impressive restraint. Noctis has a little too much pride to order him to stop it, tell him to fuck Noctis _hard_ and use him up. He’s already ashamed that he snuck out of the banquet to do this—welcome his enemies into his bed and body. Ravus clearly has the same problem. Ardyn doesn’t. He’s the first to _move_ , rolling his hips up into Noctis and sighing, “Oh, _Noct_ , don’t pretend that you don’t _love it_...”

Noctis bites his tongue. Ardyn rocks in again, then grabs onto Noctis’ hips hard enough to leave bruises, fingers digging into his tender flesh, holding him still as Ardyn slips halfway out of his body. A second later, Ardyn’s thrusting back inside, and Noctis chokes at the brutality of the motion, the way it spears him open and jolts him right up. Ravus has a sharp intake of breath and nothing more. Ardyn does it again, fiercer, faster, and sweeps them into a merciless pace that Ravus soon gives into. When he breaks, he comes undone—his arms latch around Noctis’ body, running over all his muscles and squeezing him in so many places. Ravus feels Noctis up like he’s been waiting for this for _years_ , and Noctis can only halfheartedly return the favour. He wants to _feel_ Ravus too, but he’s busy just trying to survive. 

“Isn’t he pretty?” Ardyn purrs, lips too close to Noctis’ ear. He thinks that Ardyn’s talking to him, but it could be Ravus, until Ardyn whimsically adds, “Tenebrae does breed such lovely creatures...”

Ravus squirms impossibly closer, gluing his strong chest against Noctis’, not yet as slick with sweat as Noctis’ is. He nudges Noctis’ nose with his and catches Noctis’ mouth in a fierce kiss, plunging in for full tongue and teeth on their first connection. Noctis drunkenly surges back as Ardyn continues, “And he could be _all yours_ , if you just be a good boy and marry into the Empire. You don’t have to marry his innocent sister. You could have this handsome stallion for your own, and enjoy that perfect cock every night...”

It’s not like Noctis hasn’t thought about it. But he only has in the dead of night, three fingers deep into himself with his brain completely fucked. It makes no sense in the light of day. Ravus ends their slew of messy kisses with a lewd bite at Noctis’ jaw, then growls, “As if you’d let me have my groom all too myself.”

With another chuckle, Ardyn delivers a particularly fearsome thrust, forcing a broken cry out of Noctis’ throat. His pace only picks up from there, bouncing Noctis up and down between them like some broken, fucked-open doll. Ardyn asks them, “But where would either of you be without me? You would never have had the gal to start this...” Another vicious thrust has Noctis nearly in tears. He has to cling onto Ravus for dear life, fingers tangling up in Ravus’ long hair, and Ravus groans and writhes against him. Neither of them touch Noctis’ cock, hard and pulsing, but they don’t have to. He could come from this alone. He knows he probably will. And maybe they’ll keep going after, until he’s passed right out. Privately, he hopes that happens. 

Aloud, Noctis mutters, “Go to hell.” He doesn’t even know which one he means it too. His voice comes out too shaky to make it have any effect. Ravus practically snarls and smashes into him again: Noctis gladly accepts Ravus’ invading tongue.

At a certain point, he loses control completely, not just of his body but of the _magic_ trapped within him. It trembles almost violently inside him, sparking on every thrust, jostled up and down as the two massive cocks plug up his channel. He wonders vaguely if they can feel it. Ravus doesn’t seem to have any more control than he does—Ravus is a mindless beast that claws at Noctis’ body and grinds into him and fucks him without regard. But Ardyn’s rhythm is steady and unbroken, and his large hands stroke with an idle leisure over Noctis’ feverish form. Finally, Ardyn purrs, “Ravus, why don’t you help the poor prince out?”

Ravus instantly clamps onto Noctis’ cock with his human hand. Warm and dry, he pumps Noctis too fast and too tight, but Noctis eats it up—Noctis clings to his broad shoulders and bites into his skin. Noctis only does it to muffle his own screams, but Ravus moans like he’s into it, like he wants Noctis to mark him all over. Noctis is too far-gone to remember that for next time. Noctis only wonders, in a fleeting, frayed moment of coherency, if he really should _surrender_. Then he’d never have to leave the bed. He could be their willing fucktoy, and they’d pound his brains out every night, maybe even bring in their soldiers and an army of MTs to keep his hole stuffed and satisfied. He’d never have to give a damn about being _the prince_ again: he’d just feel _good_ and boneless.

His orgasm hits him out of nowhere, sudden and torrential, sweeping in to blur out his vision, make him lose all sense of weight and time—all his senses blur together and he tenses against Ardyn, then slumps in Ravus’ arms. Ravus immediately stops pumping him, but Noctis’ cock keeps spurting anyway. Noctis paints up both of them. Ardyn keeps slamming into his sweet spot, and Ravus keeps rutting along his channel. They don’t give him any time to come down.

Ardyn does stop groping his ass long enough to smear his cum across his stomach. Kissing behind his ear, Ardyn coos, “Good boy.”

Noctis buries his burning face in Ravus’ shoulder and traitorously hopes it never ends.


End file.
